Chapter 10 Nil #4
Staring at Idris, Em looks confused for a second before she composes herself. “I suppose it’s time we start with the routine dose and scans.”
There’s a tray on the counter with two familiar black capsules resting in a shallow dish.
Stan holds his up to his eye. “Hello again, jumbo vitamin D.”
“It doesn’t contain that,” Em says.
“What does this big guy keep inside then, doc?”
“Please take the pill, Stan,” she says.
He gives me a sideways grin. “You heard the doctor, Ocean Eyes.”
I toss mine back with a swallow of water from the cup she hands me. It goes down easy. So does his.
Em watches our throats move. “We’ll give it a moment to absorb, then proceed with neural scans.”
As soon as Stan takes his seat, Em fits the headgear on him.
Idris comes to stand beside her, glancing at the tablet as the scanner whirrs to life. Numbers start crawling up the screen.
“Heart rate slightly elevated,” Idris notes. “Still within range.”
“Respiration appears stable,” Em adds. “No abnormal spikes in neural activity so far.”
Stan beams. “Hear that, Nil? Perfectly normal brain. Against all odds.”
“Standard,” Em reminds him. “Not perfect.”
Stan pouts. “Doc, please. We talked about this. My ego.”
The scanner pings. Em taps the screen. “That’s sufficient.”
Idris takes the headgear off of Stan, who takes Em’s teacup and sips it with a satisfied sigh.
“Nil,” Em calls, raising a brow at the tea thief. “It’s your turn.”
I sit down. Idris holds the headgear and puts it on me.
Em steps closer and starts checking the sensors. Her fingers feel impersonal. But my chest still thuds.
I can feel Stan watching. He sidles up to my side of the chair. “You got this, babe,” he whispers.
Heat crawls up my chest when he’s this close to me.
“You’re turning red, Nil…” Idris eyes me. “Any dizziness? Strange sensations?”
I swallow. My mouth feels dry, but not from the pill. “No.”
He nods. Em steps back, tablet in hand. “Hold still,” she says. “We’re starting the scan.”
The machine whirrs. Vibration runs through the headgear. I focus on breathing evenly. In. Out. No big deal. I’ve done this before.
Stan leans in, his breath brushing the side of my neck. “Hey, Ocean Eyes,” he murmurs, “am I too close?”
My pulse picks up. The scanner beeps. I grip the armrests.
“Nil’s heart rate increased,” Idris says, looking at the tablet.
Stan whispers beside me, his smile obvious from his voice. “Must be the new Kys, huh, Ocean Eyes?”
“Stop it, Stan,” I hiss through my teeth.
Idris reaches past me to tweak the settings on the machine. “Nil, try taking a slower breath.”
I do. It helps. A little.
Stan doesn’t help at all. He moves closer. Heat burns up my neck. “Stan,” I grit out.
He looks completely unbothered. “I’m contributing to modern science,” he whispers.
Em nudges at Stan to back off. “You’re contaminating the readings.”
“Oh, I’ve been contaminated alright,” he says. “All night long. Nil, over here, was—”
The scanner flashes a red alert. Em sighs through her nose. “I’m stopping the scan.”
As soon as she takes it off me, the machine winds down. My shoulders fall in relief.
Em studies the tablet, then looks at Idris. “We’ll need to recalibrate and test again later. Preferably when he’s less…stimulated.”
Stan claps his hands, looking too damn delighted. “Ocean Eyes broke the machine. God, why is that so hot?”
Idris picks up Em’s tea and hands it to her. “We’ll reschedule your scan for this afternoon, Nil,” he says. “Give the Kys time to settle. And perhaps give Stan time to burn off some…energy.”
“Are you telling me to go take a cold shower?” Stan asks.
“I’m recommending…” Idris says, amused, “any activity that lowers Nil’s heart rate instead of increasing it.”
Stan thinks about that, then grins. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
Em taps on her tablet. “There are no adverse markers,” she tells me. “But your readings are not usable in this state.”
“What state?” Stan asks. “Happy? Satisfied? Horn—”
“Stan,” Idris and I say at the same time.
He just beams.
I try to hide my reaction, but I feel like I ran a marathon.
Shit, I think I’m riding out a high too. It has nothing to do with the pill Em handed out to us. It has everything to do with how Stan points his grin at me.
“Oh,” Em mutters, staring between me and Stan. “Earlier, your comment about the mirrors. Was that related to the gym’s mirrors?”
My chest pulls tight. “What?”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she walks toward the far dark corner of the MedBay.
With a press of a remote, a row of security screens flickers to life.
My stomach drops.
On one screen, I see a live feed of the gym. All empty.
But then Em taps a few buttons, and then…
Fuck.
Now, the screen shows the gym last night. Empty except for two horny idiots on the workout bench.
Stan, straddling me. Me, making out with him.
There’s absolutely no way to misinterpret it.
Stan lets out a sharp gasp, then laughs so loud it bounces off the walls. “Holy shit. Look at us! We’re stunning.”
My eyes go wide. I can feel my face heating up again. “You record everything?”
“Most,” Em says.
Idris coughs into his mug. “You can turn it off now, Em.”
She clicks the feed away, but the damage has been dealt. The image is burned into my brain. Into Stan’s too, judging by how happy he looks.
“Can I get a copy?” he asks, way too eager.
“Stan,” Idris murmurs.
He ignores him. “I’m serious. Email it to me. My address is Sterling sucks at yahoo dot com.”
Idris raises a brow. “Yahoo?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Why would you tell her that?”
“So doc can send me the video,” Stan says. “Obviously.”
Em considers it like this is a normal decision. “I can provide a copy for your personal archive,” she says. “Provided you don’t distribute it to other participants or upload it to public networks.”
“Oh my god, Em.” Stan clutches his chest. “You think I’d share art that intimate? Never. It’s just for me, you, and my spank bank.”
Em nods, turning back to her tablet. “I’ll send the file.”
Stan pretends to wipe a tear. “You’re both doing holy work, docs.”
Idris sighs but holds his smile. “We’re at your service, Stan.”
“So am I.” Stan stands up, chest puffed out. “Providing my service and dedicated contribution to sex-based medicine.”
Em doesn’t even look up. “That’s not a field.”
“Sexual healing is. There’s a whole song about it, doc.”
My jaw works. “Stop talking, Stan.”
He leans closer to Em, whispering loud enough for everybody to hear, “If the footage has audio, please delete anything that sounds like me begging. Unless I sounded hot. Then keep it.”
Idris’ brows raise, looking over at me. “Nil,” he says, gentle in a way that makes my spine lock, “for what it’s worth, you’re handling this very well.”
“Handling what?” I mumble, frowning.
“The early stage,” Idris answers. “New attachment. High emotional load. It’s normal to feel…overwhelmed by someone you care about.”
Stan sniffles, definitely fake. “Idris, stop, you’re gonna make me cry.”
I stare at the floor. My pulse trips over itself. “I’m not overwhelmed.”
“Your readings show you’re extremely overwhelmed,” Idris points out, unhelpful. “Your sympathetic nervous system is trying to climb out of your body.”
Stan whispers, “Babe, your nervous system has great taste.”
I glare at him. It does nothing to stop him.
Idris smooths a hand over his tie like he’s about to give a toast at our wedding. “If you ever want advice…” he starts.
Stan cuts in. “Wow, babe. We’re getting the birds and the bees talk. From Idris. This is huge. This is practically premarital counseling.”
“We’re not—” My jaw clenches so hard my teeth ache. “This isn’t—”
“Nil,” Idris calls, “you don’t need to label anything before you’re ready. But the signs are quite clear.”
Stan pats his arm. “It’s okay. I know I’m irresistible.”
Idris clears his throat. “Right. Well, you two have…a dynamic. A very strong one. That’s all I meant.”
Stan smirks at me. “Hear that? Strong dynamic. Doctor-diagnosed.”
I want the floor to open up and swallow me. I wanna hate this so bad. But my heart isn’t listening.
“Come on, Ocean Eyes.” Stan’s shoulder bumps mine. “Let’s try out some doctor’s advice for a few hours.”
I shoot up, heading out into the hall.
Stan jogs after me. “Closet quickie round two?” he asks with a wink.
Screwed. I’m so screwed. But not as screwed as he’s about to be. I mumble “bed” instead. He’s grinning from ear to ear about it, but he’s about to see what happens when he keeps acting like a brat.
***
We don’t make it to lunch.
Stan’s been running his mouth for five minutes straight about how we’re “doctor-approved soulmates” and how Idris basically officiated our relationship in the MedBay. I shut him up for good the only way I know how.
He goes from loud to silent fast. All that smug energy burns off under my hands until he’s shaking. When I finally make him come in my hands, he’s boneless in the bottom bunk, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes barely open.
“Can’t feel my legs,” he mumbles into his pillow. “Ten out of ten. Do it again.”
I leave him there and head back to the MedBay alone.
Em runs the scans without Stan whispering in my ear.
Everything comes out clean. Vitals, graphs, numbers.
All good. I even get to tell Em something I remembered.
Otis invented Kys for my mom. Thought it was useless to know, but she thanks me with owlishly wide eyes behind her glasses.
When I get back to my cabin, I make good on Stan’s request to do it again. And again. Round after round until he’s half laughing, half begging, and I’m not far behind him.
Before dawn, he’s sprawled on his stomach, one arm flung over my waist. His face is buried in the pillow. His voice comes out muffled. “Babe,” he mumbles. “I’m so hungry. We skipped meals, so I’m dyin’ here.”
I ease his arm off me and slide out of the bunk. He makes a sound of protest.
“I’ll grab something from the mess,” I tell him. “You stay here.”